


Deadpool Cleans His Rifle

by arrafrost



Series: Wade Wilson: Seduction Fails [4]
Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Euphemisms, Explicit Language, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrafrost/pseuds/arrafrost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter walks in on Wade masturbating and isn't sure how to process the nonchalant and explicit discussion Wade has with him about the topic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deadpool Cleans His Rifle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Atsvie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atsvie/gifts).



“Wade?” Peter called out into the dark and empty living room that he had to break into. The windows and doors had been boarded up, and not well either. Well, they were good enough to hold against someone who didn’t have super strength but Peter also risked stabbing himself on nails and getting tetanus several times because apparently Wade didn’t know how to use a hammer and nails.

“Hey! Wilson!” The teen called again, stepping carefully along the questionable floor. If he didn’t stick to everything already, and wasn’t wearing his suit, he would definitely be concerned about how shiny the floor looked - probably spilled liquor. Not to mention the ridiculous mess of broken furniture, broken bottles, stacks of newspapers that hadn’t been unrolled - save for the few that had news about Deadpool that Peter could see lingering on the couch - and a large pile of pancakes in the corner that was definitely growing a sentient being.

Peter cautiously made his way to Wade’s bedroom, bypassing the bathroom completely because the last time he’d seen the state of that he… he honestly didn’t want to talk about it. Ever.

Turning the knob hard enough to break the lock, Peter pushed the door open, “Wade, where were you three hours- OH GOD DAMN IT!”

Peter recoiled immediately, ducking back out into the hallway and covering the eyes of his Spider-Man mask. “REALLY WADE? WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?”

“What does it look like, Pete!” Wade called back and Peter could _hear_ the smirk on his lips.

“You’re such an asshole!”

“No, I have an asshole, which I was-“

“STOP! I DO NOT NEED TO HEAR ANYMORE!”

“Oh come on, Petey.” Wade’s voice was distinctly closer, Peter could tell. He must have gotten up and was walking closer to the doorway. “Don’t you ever crank the shank?”

“Do I _what?”_

“Butter the corn?”

“What are you even-?”

“Flog you dong?”

“Oh that is sick, Wade!”

“How about greasing your pipe?” The words were spoken right against Peter’s masked ear but the young hero could feel the merc’s lips brush him through the fabric.

“Jesus Christ!” Peter jumped, literally. He shot right into the air and was soon staring down from his crouched position on the ceiling. Staring down at the _completely naked Merc with a… Mouth._

“Please Peter, like you never pound your flounder.”

“Where are you even getting these?” Peter exclaimed, unsure of how to deal with this situation, although breaking through another boarded up window sounded like a good plan.

“Polish the rocket, slakin’ the bacon, tickling the pickle. I, for one, make sure to clean my rifle on a regular schedule. You’re just not thumping your pump enough, that’s the problem.”

“Ugh….” Peter cringed. “I am leaving,” and with that, the young hero started crawling down the ceiling, up the ceiling? Whatever, it’s not like gravity has any control over Spider-Man. Either way, Peter remained on the ceiling as he made his way down the hallway, back to the rancid living room.

“What, don’t want to come in here and help me?” Wade grinned from below, walking slowly with him and Peter couldn’t help but focus on Wade’s bare feet. Although he was never sure how Wade’s healing factor worked. It didn’t heal any of the scars on his body but would it heal the plethora of diseases he was contracting from that floor?

“No thanks, Wade.”

“Really? Because I could always help you varnish your flagpole.”

“Yeah, don’t need your assistance or terrible euphemisms. Thanks Wade.”

“I could tenderize your meat, I’m sure you need it.”

“How about I tenderize your face?”

“I could tenderize your meat _with_ my face.”

Peter stopped. He let his upper body drop from the ceiling, now only sticking onto it by his feet as he turned around to face Wade, who was not that far from his face now.

“Gonna hum a tune while you’re down there?” Peter asked, smirking under his mask.

“I will polish the knob and wring it dry.” The mercenary’s lips curled higher into a sinister grin as he reached up, tugging Peter’s mask off his face.

“You’re on.”


End file.
